You can make me go away, you can take my son from me, but you can't make me die
Ayla passed the broken ridge and kept walking until dark. She didn't know where she was going, and she was alone. Creb and Iza, both dead. Her son, her Durc, his plaintive cries for her haunted her dreaming, he was with Uba, now. More than once in her travels toward the rising sun her weak eyes poured hot tears that cooled fast before she wiped them away.
She followed the river at an easy pace. She was dead, and there was no reason to hurry. She had survived in her cave in the coldest of winter and she'd prepared when she left the Clan, taking her furs. When she woke up one morning to find snow and the crisp cold that scoured the air clean, it simply meant her pack was lighter. Dressed in her leggings and furs, her hood around her face, she pushed on. Iza had told her to find The Others. To find her people. That thought guided her, and it made her stomach twist and lurch. Find the Others, but what would she do when she found them? It had been eleven springs that she had lived with the Clan, sixteen since she was born to a people she had no memory of.
Her thoughts consumed her as she made her way across the steppe until it changed into stands of trees, then thicker forest. She kept the river in sight, or at least in earshot, even when she would hunt. Fires proved problematic, and she had no aurochs horn in which to keep an ember alive, so every time she stopped it was her first priority. Fire, then shelter, then food.
The snow grew deeper and the temperature kept dropping. The next morning she awoke and the sun was different. Clearer. Mountains rose up nearer than before. She ate a hasty meal and longed for time to make tea, but when she emerged from her shelter, she was amazed.
There were mammoth!
Huge beasts, the long fur hanging from their hides, they gave off the unmistakable musky scent without any taint of panic. She had no hope of bringing one down herself, but she followed the herd anyway, gathering tufts of gamey fur they shed as they passed trees and bushes. One day of the task and she'd forgotten about the river, about the land of the rising sun, about her journey. If she was to survive the bitter cold, she would need the added warmth.
She tracked the herd, careful to keep her scent off the wind. She spooked a giant deer with a massive rack of antlers and once thought she saw a large cat with teeth like spears. The land here was different, along with the plants. Such things she'd never seen, or had only been told of. Plants that stayed green through the snow. Trees that towered over her. Trees that kept the snow from the forest floor for a while, until they became more sparse and opened up to a trail.
Ayla spotted a rabbit and brought it down with a single stone from her sling. As she went to retrieve it, she noted that the area was almost like a trail. Cleared by the heavy passage of many large animals, surely. She followed it, knowing that she was going the wrong direction by the position of the sun shining low in the sky through the steely clouds. The air smelled of snow and smoke, and it was the latter that drew her along, creeping ever closer. She hunkered lower, stalking something she couldn't yet see, but could smell. Slowly, steadily, she thought she couldn't be so lucky as to have found the Others already. Only days from the Clan? It couldn't be possible. More likely that she would come upon another Clan and they might know her from the Clan Gathering. She might be able to gain one night in a warm cave. One night around a true fire. She might find someone who would talk to her, not knowing yet that Broud had cursed her and she was only a spirit to the Clan.
The wind shifted and the smell of smoke was stronger and it pulled her along. Clan or Others, someone had a fire burning.
Covered head to toe in furs, Ayla crept closer.
[See this post in Slated for more information on Ayla]
She followed the river at an easy pace. She was dead, and there was no reason to hurry. She had survived in her cave in the coldest of winter and she'd prepared when she left the Clan, taking her furs. When she woke up one morning to find snow and the crisp cold that scoured the air clean, it simply meant her pack was lighter. Dressed in her leggings and furs, her hood around her face, she pushed on. Iza had told her to find The Others. To find her people. That thought guided her, and it made her stomach twist and lurch. Find the Others, but what would she do when she found them? It had been eleven springs that she had lived with the Clan, sixteen since she was born to a people she had no memory of.
Her thoughts consumed her as she made her way across the steppe until it changed into stands of trees, then thicker forest. She kept the river in sight, or at least in earshot, even when she would hunt. Fires proved problematic, and she had no aurochs horn in which to keep an ember alive, so every time she stopped it was her first priority. Fire, then shelter, then food.
The snow grew deeper and the temperature kept dropping. The next morning she awoke and the sun was different. Clearer. Mountains rose up nearer than before. She ate a hasty meal and longed for time to make tea, but when she emerged from her shelter, she was amazed.
There were mammoth!
Huge beasts, the long fur hanging from their hides, they gave off the unmistakable musky scent without any taint of panic. She had no hope of bringing one down herself, but she followed the herd anyway, gathering tufts of gamey fur they shed as they passed trees and bushes. One day of the task and she'd forgotten about the river, about the land of the rising sun, about her journey. If she was to survive the bitter cold, she would need the added warmth.
She tracked the herd, careful to keep her scent off the wind. She spooked a giant deer with a massive rack of antlers and once thought she saw a large cat with teeth like spears. The land here was different, along with the plants. Such things she'd never seen, or had only been told of. Plants that stayed green through the snow. Trees that towered over her. Trees that kept the snow from the forest floor for a while, until they became more sparse and opened up to a trail.
Ayla spotted a rabbit and brought it down with a single stone from her sling. As she went to retrieve it, she noted that the area was almost like a trail. Cleared by the heavy passage of many large animals, surely. She followed it, knowing that she was going the wrong direction by the position of the sun shining low in the sky through the steely clouds. The air smelled of snow and smoke, and it was the latter that drew her along, creeping ever closer. She hunkered lower, stalking something she couldn't yet see, but could smell. Slowly, steadily, she thought she couldn't be so lucky as to have found the Others already. Only days from the Clan? It couldn't be possible. More likely that she would come upon another Clan and they might know her from the Clan Gathering. She might be able to gain one night in a warm cave. One night around a true fire. She might find someone who would talk to her, not knowing yet that Broud had cursed her and she was only a spirit to the Clan.
The wind shifted and the smell of smoke was stronger and it pulled her along. Clan or Others, someone had a fire burning.
Covered head to toe in furs, Ayla crept closer.
[See this post in Slated for more information on Ayla]